


Azanulbizar

by Moonrose91



Series: Adventures of the Crew of the Firefly-class Transport Azanulbizar [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bilbo is adorbale but not all there, Comfort, Death, Firefly AU, First part is a bit like the pilot episode of Firefly, Gandalf is a trolololololol, Gen, I'm sorry about that but it refused to write any other way, Nori is Gender-Swapped, Thorin likes to think he's a hard ass, Violence, but Dwalin knows different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin fought in Azanulbizar, twenty years ago. He saw the Alliance rise and took to the Black in the wake of their rise to power. And maybe he's done a few things, built a kingdom that isn't so...honorable, at least not by the Alliance's standards, but he's proud of it.</p><p>And then the "Master" of Esgaroth had to fall through on their deal and set the entire crew of <i>Azanulbizar</i> onto a new course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syxx/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Little Black Dress - Bilbo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/890248) by [Moonrose91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91). 



> The actual crew of _Serenity_ won't show up. I'm sorry.
> 
> Based off of [Chapter 19](890248/chapters/1775945) and [Chapter 30](890248/chapters/1812068) of the 30 Day AU set of one-shots I wrote called "Little Black Dress - Bilbo".

Thorin dropped down behind a rocky fortification, brown coat fluttering as air strikes began to pepper them and ducked as rock dust began to fill the air. “Where is our air support from those Elves?” Thorin demanded, even as Dwalin began to make his way over to where their Elf Sargent, Glingaer, was.

“He’s dead,” Dwalin stated and Thorin turned to him before he rushed over to the Sargent’s side.

The Elf lay there, glassy eyed and his hair dyed with blood.

Thorin cursed before he carefully removed the patch and tossed it at another Elf, Agarwaen. “Congrats on your promotion, now get us some air support!” Thorin ordered before he was running back to the entryway, opening fire to give Balin cover so he could get into the bunker, only to hear the high whine of a skiff.

“Skiff!” Thorin shouted as he ducked down undercover, Balin sliding in just as the skiff began to open fire.

The bunker shook and Thorin cradled the armor piercing bullet loaded rifle in his arms before he turned and began to open fire.

He had to quickly duck back, his braids nearly getting clipped.

“We need to get to that anti-aircraft turret,” Thorin stated.

“Cover us,” Thorin ordered, patting a young Man, Theo’s, shoulder before he burst out, immediately taking down a purple-belly with two bullets to the chest as Dwalin followed, taking care of those Thorin couldn’t focus on as he ran.

He immediately jumped into the anti-aircraft turret and turned it around, aiming at the skiff, grinning as he pegged the starboard wing before realizing it was crashing towards Dwalin.

“Dwalin, move!” Thorin ordered as he leapt out of the turret, already set to run in the direction of his fellow Dwarf.

He hit the other while in a flat out sprint and covered him as the skiff hit the ground, the fire lighting up the sky as the explosion seemed to buzz in Thorin’s chest.

Thorin let out a breathless laugh of relief before he was hauling Dwalin up to his feet and they were running back to the bunker, the turret having been taken out in the skiff’s explosion.

“Thanks for the support,” Dwalin snapped at the Man and Thorin smacked Dwalin in the chest, shaking his head before he knelt done in front of the Man.

“Theo?” Thorin called softly, urging the Man to look at him, only to find distant eyes.

“Where’s our air support?” Thorin asked as he turned, only to find Balin shaking his head as he listened to the radio, Agarwaen lying dead next to him.

“What?” Thorin asked.

“They’re not coming. They’re ordering us to lay down arms,” Balin stated and Thorin stared at Balin in mute shock before a bullet whizzing by cut his braid and drew him back into the nightmare their world had just become.

*~*~*

Thorin woke up, heart racing and shivering all over from the memory turned nightmare of the twenty year old battle of Azanulbizar on Moria during the Unification War.

He groaned as an irritating beeping began to echo through his cabin and he got up. He stumbled over to the intercom and opened the channel to the cockpit. “What is it Bofur?” Thorin demanded.

 _“We’re comin’ up on Esgaroth. Should be there in the am, but barely,”_ Bofur answered.

“And where is our Lady?” Thorin asked.

 _“Nori should be dockin’ in after we dock,”_ Bofur answered.

“Be careful with my ship, Bofur, or I’ll keelhaul you,” Thorin stated.

 _“Yes, sir,”_ Bofur answered and the comm went dead.

Thorin sighed, rubbed his hand over his face, and immediately began to focus on the here and now, instead of the shadows of the past.

Ghosts were just memories that refused to be put to rest and, if Thorin was sometimes willing to swear that he could sometimes hear his brother’s laugh, or that there were days that he still turned to tell him something when he would never be at Thorin’s shoulder again, well…

That was his business and no one else’s.

*~*~*

“Fíli! Kíli! I don’t know why I bothered giving you two a room when you two just keep going to sleep in the engine room!” Thorin demanded as he marched down the hallway to said engine room.

“Not my fault!” Kíli called.

“I use our room,” Fíli answered as Thorin stepped into the engine room to find Kíli doing something to the engine while Fíli worked on one of the panels.

A Firefly, like _Azanulbizar_ , only needed one mechanic that had a slight understanding of how engines worked to keep flying.

The fact Thorin had two confused many, until they learned how the brothers worked.

Fíli had been born planet-side and had grown up around engines due to the fact their mother, Dís, was the best mechanic Thorin knew and had raised him in the black.

Kíli had been born in the black, however, and then spent a majority of his childhood in the engine room of this ship or that ship.

His feet had rarely touched dirt and, of the two, it was Kíli who was the better mechanic to the point that Thorin would be prepared to swear to a deity he did not believe in that ships _talked_ to Kíli.

But Kíli couldn’t fully function without Fíli within easy reach, and Fíli didn’t like his brother being where he couldn’t get to him if Kíli got into trouble, which was anytime Kíli went dirtside.

“Fíli, you use it till you realize that Kíli’s here, and then you move. That argument does not help your case,” Thorin stated before he focused on them.

“When we’re getting our cargo off-loaded, I need you two to get us some passengers. I would like to leave with a full cargo bay and a full passenger roster, but if only one of those can be fulfilled, I would prefer the cargo bay,” Thorin stated before he turned on his heel to walk out.

“And if we can’t get any?” Fíli asked.

“Then we aren’t getting off this rock!” Thorin shouted back as he picked up speed, adjusting his brown trench coat as he went to settle more evenly over his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

“Uncle is in a _mood_ ,” Kíli stated as he fiddled with the engine after Thorin stormed out.

Fíli, in all honesty, didn’t want to know what his younger brother was doing, as it looked like it would either end up with Thorin smiling proudly at them and ruffling Kíli’s hair or end with him yelling at them both and threatening to leave them at home. “Probably because he has to talk to the Master of Esgaroth today,” Fíli reminded him quietly and Kíli shrugged a bit before he stilled and looked up at Fíli with a low whistle.

“No wonder. Well, with that said, let’s go get cleaned up and then prep the guest cabins. And then…well, you can hide in the shadows and sulk while I skip around and try to encourage people to pick our ship for their travels. Though I should probably ask Uncle where we are going…” Kíli stated, but he was already getting distracted by the engine once more, eyes glazing over slightly as he worked.

Fíli, used to Kíli getting absorbed in anything mechanical, just walked off to do as Kíli suggested.

If he was quick, he could catch Thorin before he stormed off to meet with the Master of Esgaroth.

*~*~*

“You could have gotten me you know,” Kíli pouted as he slumped on the ramp to give Fíli a look while they watched the people move.

“You were busy. Is the engine still working?” Fíli asked teasingly and Kíli scowled up at him before he turned to whatever it was he was working on when he stilled.

“Is that a Wizard?” Kíli asked excitedly and Fíli looked up to follow Kíli’s gaze.

Walking along, carefully dragging a cart behind him filled with supplies was an old man in gray robes. He walked with the aid of a staff and Fíli was almost ready to swear that he needed, except his step was too light for that to be so.

“Good afternoon!” Kíli greeted, bounding easily out of Fíli’s reach when he tried to grab his brother to keep him on the ship’s ramp.

“What do you mean?” the Wizard asked and Kíli considered for a moment.

“I guess I mean that I think that this afternoon is a good one!” Kíli stated and Fíli could imagine Kíli’s grin of amusement and self-satisfaction that was probably crossing his face.

Fíli stepped up to Kíli’s shoulder and the Wizard barely glanced over at him. He was tall, for a Man, more like an Elf, really, in height, which was two feet taller than Kíli.

“I think we’re who you’re looking for,” Kíli stated as he was suddenly on his feet and trotting right up to the grey hatted man.

“Oh? And why do you think so, young master Dwarf?” the Wizard asked, taking in Kíli’s grease stained hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and his otherwise impeccable clothes.

“Well, we’re heading to East Path, which is the best place to get a ride to anywhere, even the Rim. And we’re the only one heading there,” Kíli answered cheerfully and the Wizard chuckled softly.

“East Path. I haven’t been there in quite some time,” the Wizard mused and looked at Kíli expectantly.

“Are you quite sure?” the Wizard asked and Kíli nodded.

“That’s where the Captain said we were going,” Fíli answered calmly, drawing the Wizard’s eye to him and he nodded a bit.

His eyes were twinkling in that way that suggested he knew something that they did not (which was why Fíli did not like Wizards; Radagast of Mirkwood was odd and the White Wizard on Rohan was the same, though far more…something), and nodded. “And how much for passage?” the Wizard asked.

“Ten credits or twenty-five platinum,” Kíli answered.

“Ah, I don’t have quite that much, but I do have some food supplies,” the Wizard offered and Fíli nudged his brother to the side to look at the food.

While Dwarves weren’t really a fruit and vegetables kind of people, strawberries could be dried to be sold on the Rim, not to mention if they took on any Elves (Thorin could grit his teeth all he wanted, but he would accept any Elf passengers) the various vegetables and fruits would come in handy.

If any of the (imaginary) Elves were vegetarians.

Fíli then noticed supplies to make bread and he nodded. “Five credits or eleven platinum,” Fíli offered while Kíli skipped off to go talk with a Man, who was probably just trying to find the cheapest transport off.

“Seven platinum,” the Wizard offered.

Fíli eyed him and leaned back slightly. “Ten,” he offered.

“Nine,” the Wizard countered and Fíli nodded.

“Food supplies and nine platinum it is,” Fíli stated and held out his hand.

The Wizard shook it. “Gandalf,” the Wizard introduced as Kíli practically skipped over to them with a grin on his face.

“Fíli,” Fíli introduced.

“And Kíli,” Kíli stated, shaking Gandalf’s hand.

“Welcome aboard _Azanulbizar_ ,” they chimed as one.

*~*~*

Kíli was very nearly bored as they watched the people pass. Gandalf had already passed his coin over to Fíli, and then had gone off, promising to be back before long.

And then Kíli spied a blond Elf who was eyeing the ship speculatively. He had the look of a Core worlder, though he did not wear the average Elf’s Core attire of flowing robes. Instead, he wore fine trousers and a dress shirt with a trench coat over it, the pants and coat a pale silvery gray, while the shirt was a deep burgundy color.

Kíli perked up when he saw him, only for Fíli to rest a hand on the back of his neck in warning. Kíli pouted and Fíli walked down to where the Elf was eyeing _Azanulbizar_ and the Firefly transport next to it.

“Can I help you, sir?” Fíli asked.

“Yes, or I hope so at least. How much to also transport a piece of cargo, about four feet long, four feet wide, and four feet deep, weighs about…100 pounds, with papering and stamping from the Alliance already on the container itself?” the Elf asked.

Fíli considered for a moment and finally answered, “15 credits for the container, 10 credits for you. Extra if you have special dietary needs,” Fíli answered.

“No. Unlike most of my kin, I enjoy a good side of beef almost as much as any Dwarf,” the Elf answered and immediately handed over the twenty-five credits.

“When can I expect my cargo to be brought onboard?” the Elf asked.

“Soon as our pilot gets back with the Mule. Where is it?” Fíli responded and the Elf smiled.

“At the Southern Docks cargo hold. Barrel Company hinged box, stamped across the top as fragile, with Glorfindel of Rivendell stamped on it as well,” the Elf answered and then gave a proper bow.

“Glorfindel at your service,” he added as he stood.

“Fíli, and that’s Kíli. At yours,” Fíli answered and Glorfindel nodded with a smile before he turned to look down the way.

“Is that your pilot?” Glorfindel asked and Kíli was suddenly there with a giddy, “Yep. Bofur. Best pilot in the ‘Verse.”

Glorfindel nodded and Fíli moved to greet Bofur and tell him of their Elven guest who needed him to pick up a crate. Bofur waved for the Elf to hop on, and Glorfindel did so with the ease of one more used to the rumble of a Mule than most Core worlders ever were.

Behind Fíli, Kíli was approaching a tall Hobbit with near shaggy curls who looked willing and wanting to get off Esgaroth and to some ‘garden’ planet.


	3. Chapter 3

“What can I do for you?” Kíli asked cheerfully as he walked up to the Hobbit, curious about one of the, rare, travelers of the reclusive Race.

Usually, Hobbits only travelled when the Alliance ‘suggested’ that they move. They had a great number of children and population booms were common amongst Hobbits. More than half of the farming planets had a 3:1 ratio of Hobbits to Men five years after settling, despite it starting out 4:1 in the Men’s favor.

“On the sign you are saying you are going to East Path?” the Hobbit asked.

“That’s right, Master Hobbit. Heading home?” Kíli asked and the Hobbit nodded with a smile.

“Anduin,” he answered cheerfully and Kíli felt his grin turn false.

Anduin was one of the more prosperous ‘natural’ Core Worlds. A retreat, of sorts, that allowed rich people to ‘rough it’. “East Path has lots of ships heading out there,” Kíli stated and the Hobbit nodded.

“How much for passage?” he asked.

“10 credits,” Kíli answered, already knowing what to use.

A Wizard might use one or the other, and Glorfindel, the Elf, was obviously one to use credits, the paper version as not every ship was equipped to do the electronic transfer, and anyone who was speaking of going to a Core World meant that he could pay in credits.

It would be nice not to have to pay an exchange rate to put their platinum to credits the next time they had to dock for fuel in an Alliance noose-held fuel dock.

“Sméagol Oldbuck,” the Hobbit introduced and held out the right amount of credits.

“Kíli. Welcome to _Azanulbizar_ Master Oldbuck,” Kíli introduced.

The Hobbit smiled and gave a polite bow.

“I’ll be happy to…” Kíli began, only to get cut off by Uncle’s shout of, “Kíli!”

“Ah. That’ll be the Captain. Best see what he wants,” Kíli stated and quickly walked away from the Hobbit.

“What’s wrong?” Kíli asked as he walked up, unsurprised when Dwalin, his own brown coat flaring behind him, kept striding up the ramp and past Sméagol, nearly sending the Hobbit back dirt-side.

“We’re not off-loading half our order here. Belt it back in. Where’s Bofur?” Thorin answered and Kíli shared a look with Fíli.

“One of our passengers has a crate. We don’t have a full passenger docket, and I don’t think Bofur got enough to fill up the hold,” Fíli stated.

Thorin huffed slightly and rolled his shoulders when the sound of the Mule reached them. They looked that way to find Bofur driving up, Glorfindel balanced on the back of it, hand resting on the crate.

“An Elf?” Thorin hissed lowly.

“He paid,” Fíli returned.

Thorin snorted and turned to storm inside.

“Pack it up! We’ll be leaving as soon as our Lady docks,” he barked out as he headed up the ramp.

Fíli sighed and Kíli shrugged before he hurried inside.

If he didn’t get caught by another member of the crew, he could hide in the engine room till Thorin calmed down, which would probably be about the time the Elf stepped off the ship, if he was lucky.

“Mahal grant me patience,” Kíli murmured and Fíli just nodded in agreement.

*~*~*

Glorfindel gave the excuse of checking over the contents of his crate to open it up. Settled out of the way, he carefully pushed aside the cloth to touch the top of the three by three by three cyro unit, the smallest available, and he smiled in relief at the calm, and gentle, ebb and flow of knock-out drug induced sleep in the cyro.

It took some concentration to do it, but it was well worth it.

Once reassured that the being in the cyro was all right, he carefully settled the cloth back over and closed the crate back up, noting that all the locks were holding the crate together.

The Lake-Town Barrel Crate Company had out done themselves.

“Everything all right?” Bofur asked.

“Perfectly all right. I was worried that the people who shipped it to the Southern Docks would have…damaged my cargo. Don’t want to bother opening it all up and taking up valuable time to look everything over, but it seems to be all right,” Glorfindel answered and Bofur grinned.

“Perfect!” Bofur answered and at the Captain’s shout of, “Bofur!”, immediately tipped his hat to Glorfindel before he rushed off.

Glorfindel stood quietly in the hold, carefully slipping his bag over his shoulder and glancing around at the passengers.

The Wizard, Gandalf, pretended not to know him, and the Hobbit seemed preoccupied with his bags, looking almost ready to be sick, even though they were still dirtside. He glanced around subtly once more, but the Captain was talking with a bald Dwarf that had tattoos across his head.

His eyes glanced down to his fingers and felt his head twitch slightly, even as his eyes narrowed, before he looked away quickly.

He would need to see both hands to know what the runes said, because Dwarves just _had_ to make it so that one needed the _entire_ sentence, or whatever, to fully understand what was written.

Of course…

Glorfindel was pulled from his musing by the soft sounds of an Endo/Exo-Atomspheric Shuttle reattaching to the ship. He looked up and was, almost, surprised when he saw a ‘female’ Dwarf step out, hair in a tri-peak formation, eyebrows braided up into the hair, and the beard braided so the head was a star, essentially, dressed in flowing clothing to further mask the Dwarf’s gender.

“Lady Nori,” the Captain greeted and Glorfindel, distantly, wondered if Nori was, in fact, female or was only called that due to the fact that most Companions were female, a reverse of always calling Dwarves ‘he’ in travel.

Nori glanced down and one eyebrow rose upon seeing Glorfindel, who gave a proper bow before being called up with the rest of the passengers to take a tour of where they were allowed to go on the ship.

*~*~*

“Due to the delicate nature of some of our cargo, we cannot allow you to move freely around the cargo bay without supervision. Especially as the supplies we are bringing to Mirkwood at Alliance behest could become dangerous, for the residents, if upset,” Thorin stated and the Elf, Glorfindel if he remembered his nephews correctly, gave a nod.

“This happens often?” the Hobbit asked.

“Occasionally the Alliance gives a cover charge to carry supplies to outposts that otherwise won’t see aid for too long. A rash of illnesses have run their course there, so they need the medical supplies badly,” Dwalin answered gruffly for Thorin, which Thorin allowed.

“There are quite a few medicines that need to be carefully balanced like that. My cargo…is delicate. I’ll need to regularly check it,” the Elf supported.

“You’re a doctor?” Fíli asked.

“Yes. Recently reevaluated. I am mainly a healer however, relying on ancient Elven arts to aid my patients over modern Man medicine, but often do a combination of both, requiring me to often return to my secondary medical school to go through a year of review and revision of new procedures if I wish to keep my doctorate every twenty years,” Glorfindel answered.

Thorin was about to ask, but refrained.

Dís would have his head if he insulted any passenger who paid to be onboard.

“The galley is open to you at all times, but I hope you keep movement to a minimal when the lights are dim, as most of the crew will be sleeping. We have protein in all colors of the rainbow for your use, but…where is Kíli?” Thorin demanded and Fíli shifted nervously.

“He went to the engine room. But I will be helping Gandalf with making our dinner tonight,” Fíli answered.

Thorin sighed and nodded as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

One day, that boy was going to get himself into trouble and Thorin wasn’t sure if he would be able to get his nephew out of it or not.

He really hoped he could, or Dís would kill him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner opened up with Kíli walking in with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, grease across his forehead, but his mechanic suit clean, as well as his hands. "You better not look like this when we get to Mirkwood," Thorin stated.

"Why? I'm not leaving the ship," Kíli answered and Thorin resisted the urge to sigh before he settled at the head of the table, Fíli at his left while Dwalin sat at his right.

Kíli sat down at his brother's right, with Bofur across from him, the Elf settled next to Bofur, the Wizard next to the Elf, while the Hobbit sat across from the Elf. “Glorfindel, earlier, you said ‘secondary university’?” Fíli asked.

“That’s correct,” Glorfindel answered and Kíli frowned a bit.

“How’d that happen? You flunk first or something?” Kíli asked and whined when his brother smacked him upside the head, while Glorfindel chuckled.

“No, actually, the school was razed to the ground some years ago. I had to go through eight years of medical school again,” Glorfindel answered with a shrug and Kíli stared at him while Glorfindel focused on his food.

Silence fell then, until chatter began between Gandalf and Sméagol. “Where do you come from, Master Oldbuck?” Gandalf questioned lightly.

“Anduin, actually. Lived there my whole life. I had to come to Esgaroth on business and am more than happy to get back,” Sméagol answered lightly and began to cut into his meat while Glorfindel began to chew on his own chicken.

“So you are a fisherman?” Glorfindel asked.

“Sorry?” Sméagol responded.

“A fisherman. The Men have too much of a foothold in Trade, the Elves won’t let you get near their perfectly tailored forests, but some of the rarest fish live in Anduin. So, fisherman?” Glorfindel asked.

“Oh, yes, but for…collectors. We net them,” Sméagol explained and Glorfindel nodded.

“Like those sparkly rainbow things?” Kíli asked and Fíli groaned, covering his face.

“Don’t you have an engine to look over?” Thorin demanded and Kíli immediately left, though he took his plate and mug with him.

“The rainbow fish with multiple fins are actually illegal to move off-world, according to Alliance regulation, without a specialty permit. Well, illegal to move off-world alive. They are an expensive delicacy, however, as only three can be fished per permit,” Sméagol stated and Glorfindel gave a snort.

“They used to be a popular pet. They are scarily hardy, able to survive anything, much like the world they came from, originally. Adaptable too,” Glorfindel stated.

“They are only found on Anduin,” Sméagol stated.

“Now. You forget, Master Oldbuck, I am _much_ older than I look,” he answered and finished off his meal.

He then stood and drifted to where the dishes were to be washed, did his own dishes, and then picked up a spare plate, loaded it with meat, grabbed a mug, and disappeared.

Thorin wasn’t sure what to think about that.

*~*~*

Nori looked over when someone knocked on her door. She secured her robe more firmly around her and called, “Come in.”

She would admit surprise to see Glorfindel enter. “My apologies. I didn’t see you at dinner, so I brought you something,” he stated and she smiled at him.

“I thank you, but you didn’t have to,” Nori answered as she waved her hand towards the table, where Glorfindel settled the tray.

“Have you come to lecture me on how it feels to stay with only one?” Nori asked.

“Oh, no. As I said before, I’m an odd Elf. And I have lived too long to hope that those I give my heart to will last with me,” Glorfindel answered with a smile and a head tilt.

“But, if it would make you feel better, I can give you the lecture a friend of mine gave me,” he added and Nori laughed before she stood up.

“You know, for an Elf, you aren’t so bad,” Nori teased and Glorfindel merely smiled in return.

*~*~*

Thorin rushed onto the bridge when Bofur gave a quick, panicked, report of someone contacting the Alliance.

“Did you get it?” Thorin demanded.

“Yeah, but…I don’t know how much got through,” Bofur stated and Thorin resisted the urge to slam his hand against the console.

“Damn. Where from in the ship?” he asked.

“The cargo hold,” Bofur supplied and Thorin tore off.

*~*~*

Glorfindel let out a sigh of relief as he touched the container within the box and clicked it shut again. While he knew he shouldn’t be in the cargo bay, he couldn’t leave the container unchecked, and the soft thrum of life under his fingers was the most glorious thing he sensed for a while.

He then turned only to have a Dwarven elbow slammed into his stomach.

Oh, ow!

He dropped immediately, his head nearly smacking the crate, and reining in every instinct to fight back.

He needed to be the soft-handed, weak-willed, Core-worlder, not Glorfindel of _the_ Golden Flower, not just a name he picked up. Of the original House, not the one that had twisted from its ashes, and he coughed, even as Thorin grabbed his hair and forced his head back.

“Who did you contact?” he demanded, eyes blazing and Glorfindel just shook his head slightly.

“I didn’t contact anyone,” Glorfindel stated.

“Thorin, I’m afraid to say you have the wrong being,” Gandalf cut in and Thorin growled, his hand tightening on Glorfindel’s hair before the sound of a gun powering up reached their ears.

Glorfindel let his eyes drift and stilled upon seeing Sméagol, who was now holding a pistol, which was pointed at them.

Of course.

Why was it _always_ the Hobbits?

Glorfindel remembered, during the Unification War, how he ran the Hobbit unit. It was also known as the espionage and sabotage unit of the Independents.

At least, if anyone knew of it, they did.

Hobbits could always get where no one else could and those caught well…

That was what Glorfindel had hated about leading these brave Hobbits, while otherwise loving every moment of it. Of sending them in with the knowledge that, if they got caught, he could do nothing to save them.

And he hated it more when the Independents fell.

“Now, Glorfindel, you are under arrest for suspicion for aiding and abetting the transportation of illegal cargo,” Sméagol stated and Glorfindel resisted the urge to disengage Thorin.

“You’re after him?” Thorin asked, drawing back slightly from Glorfindel.

“Oh, I’ll be taking you in as well, as I doubt you, Thorin “Oakenshield”, former rebel from the Unification War, are actually going to help _Elves_ ,” Sméagol stated and Glorfindel tensed.

Thorin released Glorfindel’s hair and gave a smirk. “Then we are at an impasse,” Thorin answered, taking a step to the side.

“Don’t think about it,” Sméagol said, drawing a secondary gun that Thorin recognized as the one he had hidden in the hold.

Thorin immediately raised his hands. “Sméagol, this is…” Gandalf tried, but Sméagol merely twitched a gun in the Wizard’s direction.

“To assume I wouldn’t shoot you is a dangerous thing to do,” Sméagol warned darkly and Gandalf fell silent, though his eyes were narrowed.

“There is no point in threatening the lives of others!” Gandalf tried again, but Sméagol merely smirked.

“I don’t live by Nienna’s teachings, Wizard, and I’ve heard enough preaching from _her_ associates that I don’t need to hear more from her. _Mercy for the pitiable will aid you_ , oh, yes, I’ve heard them all. And I find that I don’t really care for it,” Sméagol stated and Thorin didn’t hesitate to rush forward.

He slammed into Sméagol, the gun went off…and there was a sharp cry of pain.

Thorin did not hesitate to punch Sméagol out, quickly removing the guns, and turned to the source of the sound…

To find Kíli staring collapsed on the ground, holding his stomach, Fíli letting his legs be a pillow and…

The Elf had moved, was trying to get Kíli to answer him. “Can you feel your legs?” the Elf asked, trying to do something, but Kíli was already half out of it, Thorin having crashed to Kíli’s side.

He distantly heard Gandalf and Dwalin speaking and Nori was there, trying to help. “I can save him, but we need to get him somewhere stable,” Glorfindel stated.

“We have a fully operational med-bay. Kíli, focus on me,” Thorin answered, never once looking away from Kíli.

There was a sheet brought by Nori and they began to slide it under Kíli so that he could move him as little pain as possible.

And then Bofur’s voice crackled over the intercom.

_“Thorin, the Alliance is hailing us for prisoner transfer.”_

Glorfindel’s hand snapped up from where he was leaning over Kíli and shook his head. “You have to run,” he stated and Thorin shook his head.

“No, I’m giving you to them! You and your cargo! You brought this down on us,” Thorin snarled.

“If you don’t run, I can’t save him, because what I want to do is illegal by Alliance law!” Glorfindel argued sharply.

Thorin stilled and Kíli whimpered out a sound that was almost like ‘Uncle,’ and Thorin closed his eyes.

“Dwalin, tell Bofur we’re going to run,” Thorin ordered and Glorfindel’s shoulders sagged in relief before he began to let his fingers fly, already murmuring in Queyna, using old, Forbidden, magic that hadn’t been used for over half a millennia.

Forbidden long before the Alliance was the Alliance, but kept up.

He continued to murmur as they moved Kíli. Once settled, he only pulled away long enough to prepare himself as well as a Dwarven mixture of knock-out drugs, tossing it to Thorin. “Drug him. It will help, promise,” he stated as he washed up, and pulled rubber gloves on.

After that, he fell into the Healing Trance, his entire focus entirely on the little Dwarf and the little Dwarf alone.

Kíli.

He had a brother, Fíli.

Kíli who had not been born under a mountain, like his brother, but in the Black, giving him both the sense of Manwë and Aulë, conflicting him more than anything else ever could.

He was distantly aware when he started to use his modern medical knowledge (how many years had it been since he had slogged it out in the frontier like life, with his friends who had scattered or died, trying desperately to save the unsavable, on that first planet they had terra-formed?) to help along, and he smiled when he realized Kíli’s soul had never ‘wandered’ away.

He did not brush death once, so he would remain unchanged.

Glorfindel sighed softly and closed his eyes a bit, leaning against the counter as he cleaned up.

It was exhausting to use Arts he hadn’t used for a decade and he felt drawn out, like too much butter over bread. “Let’s see what you would bring another to ruin for,” Thorin stated.

It takes too long for him to register what that means and he’s running with a strangled shout of, “No!”

*~*~*

Thorin is striding through his ship, his _Azanulbizar_ , and he can hear the Elf trying to catch up with him.

He rushes along and he’s in the hold, heading straight for the crate. There is a cry of pain and he glances over his shoulder to find Dwalin is holding the Elf, Bofur is following closely. Fíli is, most likely, hovering next to Kíli, and Nori has come out as well.

“The prisoner?” Thorin demanded as he dragged the crate out with startling ease.

“The Wizard is with him. He thinks I’d kill the Hobbit or something,” Dwalin stated and Thorin snorted as he began to unlatch the top, frowning at the fact that there were latches as if it was supposed to open.

When he pushed aside the cloth to find the top of a small cyro unit staring back at him.

Or what could be.

There was a scuffle and the Elf was pleading with him, begging him to leave ‘him’ alone.

Thorin ignored the Elf, reassured Dwalin had him restrained, and began to unlatch it, revealing the cyro unit.

“You were transporting a living being?” Thorin demanded.

“Yes, but not in the way you are thinking, please, just…let him be!” Glorfindel begged as he sagged slightly in Dwalin’s grip, ignoring how the Dwarves were drawing closer, Nori’s face dark and dangerous.

Thorin ignored him and began to go through the process of unlocking it. “Wait, please, he’s not supposed to wake up for another week! Please, don’t!” the Elf pleaded, trying to get out of Dwalin’s grip.

Thorin ignored him as he kicked the top off, to reveal, curled up in the section cut for him like a babe in the womb (and just as naked), a Hobbit.

And Thorin felt all thought screech to a halt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> This may or may not be completed.
> 
> (It is.)

Thorin didn’t know how long he stared down at the Hobbit before the Elf’s cries reached his ears. “Please, let me go, I have to check on him, he could still go into shock!” he cried.

“From what? Waking up to realize he’s been stolen from his home?” Thorin snarled.

“It isn’t like that, please,” the Elf cried, and Thorin was about to retort when suddenly the Hobbit sat up with a panicked scream.

Thorin pulled away in surprise, seeing the Hobbit shake and tremble as he clambered out. He hunkered over and clung to his head, shaking all over and shivering. There was a scuffle and suddenly Glorfindel was there, kneeling in front of the Hobbit.

His emotions were on his face, so obvious, so unlike most other Elves, or Dwarves, Thorin had met.

The pain on his face was so _raw_ that Thorin almost felt bad about what he had done.

Almost.

And he began to wonder what the Hobbit was to him as he shushed the Hobbit gently. “Bilbo, Bilbo, it’s me,” he whispered, his hand reaching out for ‘Bilbo’ and the Hobbit immediately focused on him.

“Glorfindel, they…they hurt…and dig…and…and…” Bilbo began to chatter out and then clung to Glorfindel and began to cry, as Glorfindel immediately pulled him close curling around him to cover him as best he could.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, pen tithen, I’m here, I’m here,” the Elf soothed softly and Bilbo continued to cling, hidden within the Elf’s embrace.

“Who have you brought on my ship?” Thorin demanded and Bilbo whimpered as he buried himself further into Glorfindel’s embrace.

“This is my charge, Bilbo,” Glorfindel answered softly and Thorin felt his thoughts screech to a halt, again.

What little Thorin knew of Hobbit Culture (and what he knew of Elf Culture which was, unfortunately, a great deal more than Hobbit Culture), he knew what it meant when one was claimed as a _charge_. What it meant that this Elf had claimed this little Hobbit as one, and trying to wrap his mind around the idea that this Hobbit was more than a birth child to the Elf was something he couldn’t deal with right now on top of what happened to Kíli.

Nori was the first to react, moving forward with her robe, though her remaining clothing was as loosely wrapped as normal, and offering it to Glorfindel. Glorfindel thanked her and then he just picked Bilbo up, holding the Hobbit close to his chest as he kept Bilbo bundled.

“You _will_ explain,” Thorin snapped.

Glorfindel nodded.

*~*~*

Bilbo had clung to Glorfindel the entire time. Whimpering and crying and it took no small amount of time to settle Bilbo on the ‘bed’ that was attached to the med-bay wall.

Fíli surprised by the appearance of a Hobbit, who Glorfindel murmured to softly and tried to keep calm.

“Sleepy,” Bilbo whimpered.

“I know, pen tithen, I know,” Glorfindel whispered softly and Bilbo mumbled before he settled, Glorfindel running his fingers through Bilbo’s curls.

He carefully tucked a spare blanket around Bilbo’s shoulders and he stared down at Bilbo, taking comfort from the fact that Bilbo was there. “Elf,” Thorin demanded and Glorfindel flinched before he turned, heading to the room just outside the medbay.

They were all there, though Fíli kept to the doorway and kept an eye on Kíli.

“About twenty years ago, I ran an espionage and sabotage unit that, technically, didn’t exist. Omitting myself, it was made up entirely of Hobbits. At the beginning, it was fine. One of my people, Belladonna, got pregnant and she had a son, Bilbo. It was only then that I learned that she was married, by Hobbit convention. It wouldn’t be recognized by the Alliance until they did it ‘proper’,” Glorfindel began softly.

“I…snuck them out. Her, her husband, their son. And then…the war was over. Maybe…well, that doesn’t matter. A few years later, Belladonna came to me, made me swear to take care of her son, and I did. I promised, that is. I lived in Rivendell at the time, and so he grew up the only Hobbit on an Elven moon for a time,” he continued and paused, trying to figure out how to explain _Bilbo_.

Bilbo who had corrected students decades, if not _hundreds_ , of years older than him in math and science. Corrected the books, and seemed to just sweep through the classes, omitting those in history, which in those he took to a whole new level.

How this Hobbit, this little being who wasn’t even half their height, was able to get to places none of them ever dreamed, they could never figure out.

Glorfindel sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face before he faced them once more.

“Rivendell has the highest education that can be offered on a border moon or, really, in comparison to most of the Core worlds, with very strict acceptance rules. It is one of the five best schools in the accepted Alliance centers for education. It has some of the most gifted children to ever be born in this ‘Verse. And Bilbo made most, if not all, of these Elven children look like complete morons,” Glorfindel stated, resisting the urge to smile when Thorin gave a quiet snort.

“He was a complete brat about it too, when he wanted to be. One time, Elrond’s…” he began, only to fall silent when he remembered that these people didn’t care.

They wouldn’t care about how Bilbo had made Elrond’s sons look like fools or that he had often gotten glorious revenge with no help from anyone on the pair of them when they tried to revenge prank _him_ for being smarter than them.

He coughed nervously and looked into the med-bay, where Bilbo slept away under a blanket, wrapped in a Companion’s robe, and a Dwarf lay, recuperating. “For Bilbo, learning anything was as easy as breathing. It didn’t matter what. Physics, math, history, dancing, creative writing, most especially, for he loved a good tale and loved to weave them even more,” he murmured, remembering all the times music had played and Bilbo had just taken off, dragging others into it, even if they had two left feet.

Of the stories Bilbo had woven for the enjoyment of others, or just for himself. Grand tales that were based off history (Middle-Earth-That-Was tales spun for children and drenched in shadow for adults), silly tales of people no one was sure really existed anymore.

“Bilbo wasn’t simply _gifted_ , he was a Gift. And someone very dear to me granted me the privilege to raise him,” he whispered and he looked down at his hands.

“And I failed him,” Glorfindel choked out, biting back tears, swallowing his guilt, and forced himself to look at the Dwarves.

“When Bilbo was sixteen, he got offers to all these schools. His scores…his scores were…for a Hobbit, it was unheard of. He trounced Elves and Dwarves and Men with his intellect, slamming down that _slur_ of Halfling, for Bilbo was hardly _half_ of anything,” Glorfindel answered and he felt his fury bleed into his words at the sneers Bilbo got for being a Hobbit.

 _Halfling_ , they had called him, as if that made Bilbo’s intellect less than theirs.

“There was a government sponsored school, simply called the Academy. I tried to talk Bilbo out of it, but that was where he wanted to go. It had the best, most challenging courses and all Bilbo wanted to do was learn and be challenged while learning. He had a vicarious appetite for knowledge. For the first few months, he sent letters and then…nothing. A year of silence passed and then, suddenly, he began sending them again, only, they were complete nonsense. They had misspellings, from someone who had _never_ misspelled _anything_ after learning how to spell it, they…they talked about things that never happened, people we didn’t…

“It was a code. And they all simply said, ‘They’re hurting us. Please help me.’”

Glorfindel looked back into the med-bay.

There had been more, of suddenly Bilbo’s _intuition_ being _more_. Code that didn’t make sense till Glorfindel threw it under moonlight and gaped in awe over the fact Bilbo had accurately predicted when he would grow frustrated enough to throw the paper into moonlight.

Of how sometimes even what was in code made no sense, just nonsense and screams across paper.

“How did you get him out?” Nori asked softly and Glorfindel focused on them again.

“Calling in a lot favors. They said they would get him to Esgaroth, and I could get him wherever. So I aimed to. My aim was just a little off,” Glorfindel answered quietly and looked back in the room.

His Bilbo. His little Bilbo.

His little Bilbo was had just turned twenty-one this past Halimath, by Shire Reckoning.

“Which brings us to the other Hobbit. What are we going to do about him?” Dwalin growled, and Glorfindel let the world slide away from him.

He was tired and all he wanted was sleep.

Real sleep.

After many a millennia, he had learned to appreciate what other Elves scorned.

And right as soon as he could, he was taking a nap.


	6. Chapter 6

Glorfindel relaxed on the chair closest to the medbay and began to focus on slipping into meditation when he felt someone step into his space. He let out a soft sigh and blinked a couple of times to find himself staring up at Dwalin. His eyes flicked down to the Dwarf’s knuckles before they flicked back up to his face. “Somethin’ wrong with my tattoos?” Dwalin demanded.

“No. Just caught my attention. Is there something I can help you with, Master Dwalin? I would like to get in a couple of hours of meditation before we get to Mirkwood or Greenwood, or whatever the stupid planet, or moon, or whichever, that Thrandy lives on is called,” Glorfindel stated and Dwalin let out a soft snort and a smile twitched behind his beard.

“Kíli, will he be all right?” Dwalin demanded.

“Yeah. Perfectly fine, in fact. Despite how he reacted, which I think was caused by the shock of a foreign object entering his body at such force, he wasn’t in too much danger. He’ll be up and about and bothering everyone within the week, if he rests. Best set up a cot for him in the engine room, otherwise he’ll never get it. He should stay in the medbay for about a day cycle, but he’ll be movable by tomorrow about this time at the latest. If he doesn’t rest, it might take two weeks,” Glorfindel answered and sat up fully, letting out a low groan as his muscles protested.

“I need sleep,” he muttered and Dwalin huffed.

“Thought you tall pointy ears didn’t have to sleep,” Dwalin stated and Glorfindel let out a quiet laugh.

“We don’t _have_ to, but I am very old, and I like the escape sleep brings me from my very long and exhausting life, not to mention that when I use the magic that I did, sleep is better than meditation, but I want to be easily to awaken should Bilbo or Kíli need me, so meditation it is,” Glorfindel answered as he resettled on the chair.

“Yer eyes gonna stay open?” Dwalin asked.

“Yes,” Glorfindel answered.

“I’ll spread the warning around about that,” Dwalin stated and Glorfindel hummed his understanding, even as each muscle relaxed, his head tipping back against the wall as he crossed his ankles over each other, his legs straight out in front of him.

And then he slipped into meditation.

*~*~*

Thorin stepped over the Elf’s feet as he made his way to check on the patients, to find Kíli talking quietly with Fíli, head twitching slightly in that groggy way of his that came from him coming out of a drug induced sleep.

He paused in the doorway, glancing over to where the Hobbit was sleeping, curled up under the blanket, and then he glanced over at the Elf, who looked practically dead, except there was that faint rise and fall of his chest. “Uncle?” Kíli called and Thorin stood up, walking over to his bedridden nephew.

“I’m here, Kíli,” Thorin stated as he ran his fingers through Kíli’s hair gently, smiling as Kíli leaned into it with a happy sigh.

Kíli mumbled and slipped back into sleep before Thorin slowly removed his hand to turn to face a sleeping Bilbo. “What are we going to do with these two?” Fíli questioned.

“The one that ratted us out to the Alliance will take a short stay in the cargo hatch, or the Elf will take care of him. This one…I don’t know yet. They're wanted by the Alliance, which is a mark for them, but he’s an Elf,” Thorin answered and Fíli smiled at that.

“But he’s good. According to Dwalin, Kíli can start sleeping in the engine room starting tomorrow,” the blond stated.

“Truly?” Thorin questioned as he grabbed the spare blanket from the cabinet under Bilbo’s feet.

“Yeah. And he’s looking pretty good, considering he was shot a few hours ago,” Fíli continued as Thorin tucked the blanket around his shoulders.

“Yeah…he is. Keep an eye on him for me, I have to go talk with Bofur about our landing on Mirkwood,” Thorin stated and pat Fíli’s shoulder before he headed out of the medbay and towards the bridge.

*~*~*~*

“What are ya goin’ to do with ‘em Thorin?” Dwalin asked and Thorin sighed as he reholstered his gun, leaning against the end of the pilot’s console.

“I don’t know. He’s useful, but the probable trouble he could bring is far greater than any possible help. There’s also that little Hobbit he brought on board through a cyro box,” Thorin answered, his voice growing darker toward the end.

“I don’t think he’s part of the Hobbit trade Thorin,” Bofur stated and Throin snorted a bit before he stared out the window.

“We’ll see on that. What’s our ETA to Mirkwood?” Thorin responded.

“We’ll be there in a few hours. In about another two, we’ll be close enough for short wave communication,” Bofur stated and Thorin nodded.

“We’ll check on our prisoner, then the Wizard, and then our other two guests, and we’ll see about the Elf before I make any final decisions,” Thorin stated and Dwalin nodded as Thorin stood up normally.

“Call us up to the bridge when we get close to a shortwave. I am sure Thranduil will want to gloat about us having to come to him to sell those weapons,” Thorin stated and Bofur nodded, even as he focused on the Black.

Thorin headed down the steps and Dwalin was soon following. “It might amuse you to know that the Elf called Thranduil, Thrandy,” Dwalin stated and Thorin chuckled lightly.

“Well, to our prisoner,” Thorin stated as he made his way down to the _other_ Hobbit’s domain.

*~*~*

Dwalin eyed the Wizard, Gandalf, as the odd Man left him, and Thorin, alone with Sméagol Oldbuck, if that was really his name. “What did your superiors tell you about Glorfindel and his…cargo?” Thorin demanded.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, Dwarf, considering that each one of you is on report for charges of obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting a fugitive, and for transferring contraband across planetary borders!” Sméagol snarled and Thorin let out a long exhale through his nose.

“That’s only _if_ your message went through. Which I highly doubt. Not in full, at any rate. So, you have one more chance. Tell me what you told them, and we’ll be fine,” Thorin stated and Sméagol snarled before he spat on his boots.

Dwalin surged forward, a snarl ripping itself out of his throat, only to be kept from tearing the Hobbit limb from limb by Thorin grabbing onto him. He twisted around to glare at his Captain and brother-in-arms, only to find Thorin staring past Dwalin, at Sméagol. With a long sigh, Thorin drew out a knife to hand to Dwalin. “Don’t do irreparable damage to the room. I’m off to go have a chat with a Wizard,” Thorin answered and Dwalin nodded once.

“I’ll learn what I can,” Dwalin stated.

“Don’t…actually, torture him,” Thorin whispered lowly in Khuzdul before he left the room, leaving Dwalin alone with Sméagol.

Dwalin gave a nod at Thorin’s back and then turned back to the Hobbit, baring his teeth in a parody of a grin at the small form.


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Headache?” a sleepy voice asked and Thorin turned, hand itching for a weapon, to find the Elf leaning against the doorway.

“Yes,” Thorin admitted and the Elf slowly stood up, a frown marring his features.

Unlike most Elves Thorin knew and spoke with, Glorfindel looked every year of his age, despite his youthful face. His eyes were tired and worn, like a battle-hardened Dwarf in the last decade of his life, and maybe it was the memory of his grandfather, and the pounding in his skull, that had him being civil to his passenger. “Get them often?” he asked as he sat down on the nearest seat.

“Only when a Wizard speaks to me in riddles,” Thorin answered.

“Ah, yes. Wizards do that,” Glorfindel responded and he slowly stood up.

“I have something for that headache, if you desire it,” Glorfindel added and Thorin shook his head.

“You should probably get back to your patients,” Thorin responded and Glorfindel nodded as he headed for the doorway, only to pause.

“Will you be leaving us on Mirkwood?” he inquired.

“I haven’t decided yet, but it is starting to look like the better option of the few I have,” Thorin replied honestly.

Glorfindel nodded and headed back to the medbay as Bofur’s voice came through the shipwide intercom. “Captain, bridge, now.”

Thorin took off.

*~*~*

“Orcs,” Bofur stated as Thorin walked onto the bridge and Thorin cursed in Khuzdul as he looked out the ‘window’ to find an Orc ship passing close.

The sharp, snow-white, ship stood out against the ‘Black and Thorin felt his rage build at the sight. With a low snarl and another curse in Khuzdul, Thorin reached up and flicked on the shipwide intercom. “Crew and others, an Orc ship is passing close by ours. Now, they seem to just be drifting, but…we’ll see. In the meantime, keep your weapons close and those that are unable to defend themselves closer. If they board us, it will be a fight to the death and it _will_ be theirs. In the meantime, we sit quiet, as much as it pains me to go against my heritage in such a fashion, we have neither the time nor the arms to attack them, and win. All with arms training, and not with a prisoner or a prisoner themselves, report to the mess hall.”

He flicked it off and Bofur raised an eyebrow, even as Thorin shook his head. “Guard the helm,” he ordered and headed back down.

*~*~*

Thorin stared at the Elf and Wizard, both of whom were standing at the doorway. “I wasn’t sure which category I belonged in,” the Elf stated.

“Guard the medbay. This is only necessary if the Orcs board us,” Thorin ordered and the Elf nodded before he left, even as Thorin stared at the Wizard.

“Nienna is known for her pity and mercy. With that in mind, the greatest mercy I could ever bestow upon the Orcs would be freedom from Melkor’s clutches,” Gandalf answered and Thorin scowled at the Wizard.

Even when offering help, he talked in riddles and tried to warp his meaning into one thing so people would assume what they wished about the situation. Thorin was pretty sure that his words, however, meant that he would kill the Orcs, should they board. “Very well. Now…Lady Nori, how may I help you?” Thorin greeted, resisting the urge to grit his teeth and throw Nori back into her shuttle.

“I’m here to inform you that if needed, you can move the injured to my shuttle, just in case. It is easily defensible and I am handy with more weapons than a Companion should be,” Nori explained with a gentle smile and Throin nodded.

“If they turn around, head for us, we’ll put Kíli, Bilbo, and the Elf in with you. Fíli, if that happens, I will need you to focus and not get distracted by Kíli. We’ll be on the walkway and hope to funnel them through. The more they have to tear each other apart to get to us, the better for us in the end,” Thorin ordered and the intercom crackled to life overhead.

 _“They’re flying past Captain. We’re in the clear,”_ Bofur stated and Thorin nodded.

“Keep that plan in mind. If they turn around and come after us, we’ll need it. Lady Nori,” Thorin responded and nodded politely at Nori before he walked back up to the bridge.

He needed to talk with Bofur.

*~*~*

Bilbo shifted on his bed and he slowly sat up, his heart _pounding_ through his torso, his breathing quick and sharp. Under him, he could feel the pulse of the ship around him and he twisted around slightly as he sat up, pulling the soft robe around him. He startled a bit at the softness, smiling as he touched the lavender geometrical patterns across royal purple. He hummed happily as he let his fingers trace along the patterns and looked up when he heard a sound.

First, he saw the Star Son, the Son of the Stars. He had another name that was wrapped around him, but Bilbo couldn’t see it. Well, he could, but he could neither understand nor comprehend it, so he would have to wait to hear it, to have it spoken, before he could see it. He slipped off the table, wrapping the robe around him more and made his way over to Star Son. He settled on a chair that had been vacated recently, touched with traces of another. Dwarf, too, same trace Star Son was leaving on his table, so...brother?

Med bay.

Fin’s domain, but not Glorfindel’s.

Glorfindel’s was battle and fight and blood and death and destruction and fury and…

“What are you doing?” a voice demanded and Bilbo jumped and turned, already moving away from Star Son.

Soul Shield.

The name was woven around the Dwarf like the shield he was named for, burning bright in Bilbo’s sight.

The Dwarf walked with precision and purpose from the doorway to stand between Star Son and Bilbo, allowing Bilbo to look at the physical looks of the Name.

Soul Shield’s beard closely cropped against his jaw, and hair a mass of mane that fell past his shoulders. The brown coat fit him perfectly over rough clothes and Bilbo riveted on the coat, feelings his fingers twitch amongst the purple he wore.

Fin bought one from a Freedom Fighter once and tucked it around his shoulders.

No…he had pretended. It had been a shoddily dyed coat, with the brown peeking through, but Fin had tucked it around him, whispering how this had been much like his parents’…

No.

His silvery great coat, the one he wore all the time.

That had been the one he tucked around Bilbo’s shoulders as he whispered about his parents in the night, in Rivendell, the stars dancing overhead.

Fin didn’t _have_ a brown…

A snarl had Bilbo’s hand snapping back, against his chest, pulling away from the Soul Shield, only then realizing he had been drifting ever closer, hand reaching for the coat. It was a relic of a past that was not his, but was, and he was pulling away further as Soul Shield seemed to grow.

He was shielding Star Son from Bilbo and he was so confused, tugging the robe closer to him, wrapping himself in it. He buried himself further into the purple and pushed himself up against the bed he had been sleeping in. “ _Captain, your needed on the bridge,_ ” a voice called from above and Bilbo took advantage of Soul Shield’s distraction.

He scrambled up onto the bed he had been sleeping on, hiding under the blanket, curling up tightly and pretending that the blanket could not be penetrated. He heard a long sigh from outside of his fortress, and then Soul Shield was walking away, his steps heavy against the floor of the ship.

Bilbo slowly peeked out, before he yawned and hid again, slipping back into sleep.

*~*~*

Thorin took deep breathes as he prepared himself to talk to Thranduil, even if it was over shortwave. Just take the weapons, put them where Thranduil would have a problem finding them without Thorin telling him where they are, get paid, get out.

Quick and simple.

Thorin took another deep breathe at that thought.

Quick and simple was _never_ their fare of choice. “Captain?” Bofur pressed and Thorin nodded, even as Bofur opened up the connection.

 _“Thorin,”_ Thranduil greeted with all the disdain he could muster.

“Thranduil,” Thorin returned calmly, pretending that he didn’t notice the disdain.

 _“I hear that you are looking to offload some banned Alliance weapons,”_ Thranduil stated as he seemed to inspect his fingernails.

Throin, somehow, managed to keep himself from grinding his teeth together in irritation. “Yes. Our usual buyer decided that trying to get us pinched was a wise alternative,” Thorin stated.

 _“I hope you…dissuaded him from that line of thought,”_ Thranduil stated, suddenly _very_ interested.

“Of course, or I wouldn’t be sitting pretty with a cargo hold of weapons in my ship. However, due to their practically _burning_ nature, I figured you’d appreciate the discount,” Thorin stated and Thranduil let out a low hum.

 _“We might be able to do business. I’ll send the coordinates to your pilot for the rendevous. Remember the weapons,”_ Thranduil stated and the short wave cut out.

Thorin looked ready to break the console at that and let out a long sigh before he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure that Elf is going to betray us again,” Thorin stated even as Bofur chuckled while he leaned against the back of the pilot’s chair Thorin had borrowed for the communication.

“Probably. Have a plan?” he inquired.

“Depends on your definition of plan,” Thorin stated as he stood and Bofur took back his seat.

Thorin started to head out before he paused and turned back to lay a hand on Bofur’s shoulder, grabbing the pilot’s attention. “Keep an eye on the medbay, if you can,” he added and Bofur nodded.

Thorin pat his shoulder twice and then headed down.

Time to get his little company of criminals together.


	8. Chapter 8

Thorin sighed slightly as he polished the pulse-shot shotgun, ignoring the way Fíli was grumbling in his ear about having to be the sniper. “Well, Kíli can’t, so stop complaining Fíli,” Thorin warned and Dwalin chuckled.

“Listen to yer Uncle Fíli,” Dwalin warned and Thorin could hear the sounds of Fíli taking down someone quickly and rapidly.

 _“Isn’t even my Mahal blessed rifle,”_ Fíli snapped.

“Fíli, you are not so old that I can’t take you over my knee if you continue acting like such a toddling bratling,” Thorin warned lowly and the sudden silence was near deafening.

“Still breathin’ lad?” Dwalin asked.

 _“Yes. Amad would kill you Uncle,”_ Fíli stated.

“No she…quiet on the com,” Thorin stated as he saw dust coming up.

Silence fell once more, though this far more tense as Thorin slowly stood up, shouldering the pulse-shot shotgun as he watched Thranduil ride up on an _elk_ of all things, followed by other Elves on horseback or driving a MULE. “Five platinum says Thrandy turns on us,” Dwalin stated and Thorin snorted softly as he stepped forward to meet the Elves, more or less.

“Only a fool would take that bet. And, contrary to my past actions, I am not a fool,” Thorin stated as he smiled tightly at Thranduil in a manner that, Thorin was sure, was more like a wolf bearing his teeth at an enemy instead of an actual smile.

Thranduil’s answering smile that was merely a twitch of the lips in a way that suggested he was going to be a smug bastard, told Thorin that this was not going to end well, under any definition of the word.

 _Damn_.

*~*~*

Bilbo woke with a start, twitching.

His heart was still trying to beat out of his chest (that was bad) and he was still trying to breathe too fast, but despite everything in his body saying he should stay put, _something_ was telling him to move, to get out of the confined space.

That same _something_ , however, was also telling him that he should stay there, keep to Star Son.

Protect the Star Son.

How could he…

Oh, yes. There it was, all those ways of hurting people.

Bilbo didn’t like to hurt people, but there that knowledge was, settled within his mind.

He slowly sat up and noticed how Star Son was awake. He was saying something, but Bilbo was beyond comprehending, wondering why, and when, they had landed. What…where was Soul Shield?

Where was Fin?

“Little One, what is it?” Star Son asked, even as Bilbo shook his head slightly, looking around as he tried to figure out where that feeling was coming from.

His hands trembled as he tried to get everything straightened in his mind. Nothing could be cleaned up anymore and Bilbo stared at Star Son before he turned, toward the doorway, and began to walk towards it. His bare toes flexed against the chill of the medbay floor, and he felt the pulsing around him of the ship.

Azanulbizar.

Dimrill Dale.

One and the same, but Azanulbizar rang with sadness and pain and death…

And ghosts.

He took a step and then there was something leaping at him, wrapping around him, holding him and Bilbo cried out in fear as he scrabbled at the arm that held him. The hunter and the fury and the sharp knives that stabbed into his mind. He cried and tried to fight until he felt the chill of a gun barrel pressing against his temple. “Now, now precious, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’ll just let you go. And you, you spawn of the Black and a Dwarf, you just lie still, or I’ll put a bullet right through your throat and no manner of Elf _or_ Wizard magic will save you from that,” the hunter, the twisted Hobbit at his back, warned.

Bilbo whimpered, even as he saw Star Son sit up, eyes wide. Bilbo shook his head, even as he was dragged away. He tried to put his head together, tried to cry for Glorfindel, but it hurt. Everything was pushing and shoving and _stabbing_ and Bilbo could feel tears falling down his face.

It hurt and he couldn’t fight and Bilbo mentally screamed for Glorfindel as loud as he could.

*~*~*

Glorfindel stare out over Mirkwood’s plain, already spying the shadowy forest only an hour’s walk away. “You really call Thranduil _Thrandy_?” Bofur asked and Glorfindel chuckled.

“I do. He…” Glorfindel answered, only to stop dead as he felt Bilbo _scream_ within the confines of his mind.

Distantly, he heard the com crackle to life, pulling him away from Bilbo’s scream that still echoed in his mind. He pulled out fully when Kíli’s voice following the static registered within his mind.

“Sméagol has Bilbo!”

Glorfindel didn’t even pause to fully process, he was already running away and over. He needed to get to Bilbo as fast as he could, and damn the consequences. Distantly, he heard the sound of the Firefly-class cargo door being opened. The distinct grinding sound was hard to forget and as he ran out onto the walkway, above the cargo hold, he could see Sméagol dragging Bilbo towards the opening ramp.

He didn’t hesitate to run along the walkway and launch himself over the railing, dropping down in front of Sméagol. He also didn’t hesitate to grab the Hobbit’s wrist, the same one that now had a gun pointed at him, and twist so he could break it, forcing Sméagol to drop the gun. Bilbo whimpered as Sméagol’s arm tightened around his shoulders and throat, but Glorfindel ignored the gun that clattered to the ground as he reached for the arm still holding Bilbo and wrenched it away.

Bilbo slipped out of sight and Glorfindel took the chance to twist Sméagol away, shoving him towards the open cargo hold door/ramp. When Sméagol made a move to charge at him and possibly to get the gun, Glorfindel kicked him toward the open hatch. As Sméagol stumbled back, Glorfindel dropped and grabbed the gun, swinging up to aim. It wasn’t one he was familiar with, but that didn’t stop him from getting off a shot as Sméagol charged at him.

He let out a shriek of pain as a small spray of blood leapt up from his upper arm, but he was then shoving his pain away, leaping at Glorfindel. Glorfindel caught him, making sure to angle the gun towards Sméagol as they grappled. “Even if you kill me, Elf, they’ll keep coming! They won’t stop till they get him _back_!” Sméagol hissed as he managed to get Glorfindel on his back in an attempt to pin him.

Glorfindel slammed his forehead into Sméagol’s nose, hearing the crunch and feeling the blood flow down on his own face while Sméagol screamed. Glorfindel shoved Sméagol back, sending the Hobbit stumbling away, and Glorfindel was up on his knees, aiming with the gun.

When Sméagol charged this time, that didn’t stop Glorfindel from letting off two shots.

Sméagol’s forehead began to become coated in blood, and possibly other things, as he dropped and silence over took the cargo hold. Glorfindel’s breathing was even and smooth in a manner that was reminiscent of meditation and the gun felt heavy in his hand.

Each inhale brought the taste of blood to his tongue and each exhale did little to relieve that taste.

It took a few moments for him to hear the soft whimpering to the side and he turned, finding Bilbo huddled against the cargo containers. Glorfindel immediately dropped the gun and rushed over to Bilbo. “Bilbo? It’s me, its Fin,” he called softly, even as Bilbo shook his head while sobbing.

“No, no, no!” Bilbo cried and Glorfindel felt his heart breaking slightly, beating sluggishly in his chest, for Bilbo’s distress did what a minor taste of the battlefields he had left behind could not.

Brought him back.

After a few moments of searching, Glorfindel managed to find a handkerchief and wipe the blood off his face before shoving back into his pocket. “Bilbo?” Glorfindel called softly, cutting through Bilbo’s terrified whimpers, even as Glorfindel registered the sounds of horses approaching.

“It’s Fin,” he stated softly and Bilbo looked up at him, eyes wide and frightened, and then he was burying himself into Glorfindel’s torso, hiding his face in Glorfindel’s shoulder.

“Fin,” Bilbo breathed and Glorfindel held him tight as swallowed back tears, burying his nose into Bilbo’s hair, breathing deep.

“Fin,” Bilbo repeated and Glorfindel nodded.

“Fin,” he reassured as the sound of Dwarves marching up the Firefly’s ramp echoed through his ears.

*~*~*

“Why is there a dead body in my cargo hold?” Thorin demanded as he walked up the ramp quickly.

He twitched slightly, reaching for his hidden pistol, only to find it was Glorfindel, who was picking up the little Hobbit. “Gun went off, quite by surprise,” Glorfindel answered and then frowned, his eyebrow furrowing slightly.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, even as Thorin ordered Dwalin to toss Sméagol out of his ship.

“The Orcs followed us,” Thorin stated as he marched past, Fíli at his heels.

He heard Glorfindel murmur something in another language and obvious footfalls followed him. “What are we going to do?” Glorfindel asked.

“Get ready to do something insane. I just need to know one thing,” Thorin stated and turned to face the Elf, even as Fíli continued on.

“What?” Glorfindel questioned.

“Can I trust you to do as ordered?” Thorin stated.

“Yes,” Glorfindel answered, even as he cradled the little Hobbit closer to him.

“Good. Follow me,” Thorin ordered and Glorfindel obeyed.

*~*~*

Thorin released Bofur from his duties as he settled in the pilot’s chair, watching the stars pass through the Black.

Strange, that.

Dark as a mountain hall, but stars as far as the eye could see. Pulling off a Crazy Ivan was risky, especially in atmosphere, but ultimately successful. It was also had high fuel consumption, but they had been paid so all was well, even though Thranduil had tried to wiggle out of paying them (again) and, despite that, Thranduil had been properly warned about the Orcs, thanks to Fíli who had run down the slope practically screaming about Orcs coming, so he would be fine.

Most likely.

Not that Thorin cared one way or another, but Thranduil had his uses.

On top of that, the Wizard, Gandalf was handy in the engine room, even if under Kíli and Fíli’s watchful eyes, the Elf was worth his weight in mithril as a doctor/healer, but would bring as much trouble as mithril did, most likely.

The little Hobbit might cause problems, especially as he was probably being hunted by the Alliance, but…

Well, so long as the little Hobbit was around, the Elf would stick around, and he seemed to actually _like_ being around Dwarves, unlike most (all) Elves Thorin had met before that moment.

And they pissed off the Alliance, which was a point in Thorin’s book.

An obvious footstep warned Thorin of Glorfindel’s approach before he spoke. “Well…what will you do with us now?”

Thorin glanced over at the Elf as he walked over to lean on the spot Thorin had earlier, clear of buttons and other important things. “Well…so long as you keep that little Hobbit of yours under control, might be best if you keep from settling in one place too long. You’re a pretty good healer and we could use that, but you turn on me, I will leave you to be sucked out into the Black,” Thorin swore and Glorfindel nodded.

“Duly noted. What happens if…I can’t control Bilbo? I don’t know what they did to him, not really. I can’t predict how he’ll react to things,” Glorfindel answered and Thorin let out a long sigh.

“When we get to that chasm, we’ll build the bridge. In the meantime, keep him under control,” Thorin stated and Glorfindel nodded.

“As you order Captain,” Glorfindel answered and then disappeared, only the soft whisper of clothes marking he had moved at all.

*~*~*

“Makes no sense. Shouldn’t be sleepy. I slept in the box,” Bilbo complained softly, even as Glorfindel tucked him in.

“Yes. And you woke up early. You just need one good sleep,” Glorfindel whispered softly, running a comforting hand through Bilbo’s hair.

Bilbo hummed and leaned up slightly into the touch, causing Glorfindel to smile slightly and continue. “Fin?” Bilbo questioned softly, his eyes already starting to slip closed.

“Yes Bilbo?” Glorfindel answered quietly.

“Why are you glowing?” Bilbo asked and Glorfindel felt his hand to twitch slightly at the statement.

Before Glorfindel could formulate an answer, Bilbo was asleep and Glorfindel continued to run his fingers through Bilbo’s hair.

There was no way for Bilbo to see souls unless…unless something so horrific had happened to him. Unless he died and came back or…or they cracked open his skull and looked at his brain.

And then cut into it.

Glorfindel had seen it before, in his long life, and the outcome, before, had been madness followed swiftly by death, their minds unable to handle the onslaught.

As the memories caught up to him, Glorfindel felt his head bow under its own accord as he began to softly sob, quietly apologizing to Belladonna and Bungo as he did so. Because it was obvious he had failed Bilbo in the worst possible way and there was nothing Glorfindel could do to fix it.

All he could do was pray to the Valar that Bilbo would live to see the world in its best possible light, even if Glorfindel had to drown himself in the shadows to make it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it was done before I started posting, which is how I will be working with this series for the story arcs.
> 
> Slice-of-life one-shots will break it up, so the part following this will be a collection of one-shots followed by another story arc.


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